sulahnan: (Default)
sulahnan ([personal profile] sulahnan) wrote in [community profile] faderift2021-03-14 07:48 pm

oh, when I dream it's in colour

WHO: Athessa and YOU
WHAT: Farewells, written and in-person
WHEN: ICly mid- to late-Drakonis
WHERE: The Gallows, Kirkwall
NOTES: Keeping all of Athessa's goodbyes in the same place, closed starters in the comments






open: packing
It's not difficult to see that something is happening, if you happen to be on the fourth floor of the old mage tower in the Gallows. At any given time of day Athessa's room may be wide open, with the elf within throwing things about in the typical spring cleaning fashion, only with more emphasis on putting things into a traveling trunk instead of tidying it.

Without looking, Athessa will call out to someone passing by her door, "Hey, hand me that, will ya?" and point at something or another. Yes, she could get up and get it herself, but she's sat on the floor trying to figure out how to fit everything she needs into this trunk. It'd be a lot easier if what she needs was confined to just her bug-out bag, but that's in the trunk, too.

Sometimes the door is shut, and there isn't much to see but the ruckus can be heard in the hall, the scrape and wheeze of furniture being moved around because when the fuck did she get all this stuff? It sure seems like she's preparing for something, and in a bit of a rush to do so.


open: docks
The day she leaves, Athessa can be found hauling her stuff down to the docks, one heavy trunk of what-have-you that thuds cacophonously down the stairs unless (or until) someone gets sick enough of the thudding to offer a hand in carrying it.

Once at the docks, that trunk will be hauled aboard by some deckhand or another, leaving Athessa to stare up at the sight of the ship that'll take her across the Waking Sea. It hasn't been all that long since she's been on a ship, of course, but it's been some time since she felt like this. Uncertain of what she's going to find where she's going.

nonvenomous: (really)

[personal profile] nonvenomous 2021-03-15 03:44 am (UTC)(link)
[ Athessa’s open door has necessitated near silent movement through the hallway they share, but there’s no magic for Silas to stifle sound with here. The scrape of his key in the lock and the muffled click of the bolt mark his comings and goings, infrequent as they are. He hasn’t always been sleeping in his room.

But he’s inside to look to the door at the knock now, poised with pen in hand, the quiet inside tell-tale.

He is thinking about playing opossum.

Seconds pass; a chair scrapes back. He turns the lock, and draws the door open, shabby and lean on the other side of it in what she’s seen pass for his pajamas: a loose tunic and trousers rolled at the ankles. But there’s no whiskey on his breath, or wine, or weed. He looks her up and down, clear-eyed and kempt enough to pass for a resident, and not something that crawled in and made a nest beneath one of the cots. ]


What is it?
nonvenomous: (pic#14254264)

[personal profile] nonvenomous 2021-03-15 04:39 am (UTC)(link)
The giant bat, [ Silas asserts, thought to speech with no pause for consideration in between. That Batty Batkins, and not some other Batty Batkins. It’s a particular kind of skepticism -- not of the need itself, but that she is trusting him with it.

A quick assessment of the state of her is enough to convince him that she isn’t pulling his leg. ]


Of course, [ he says, trace excitement subdued in a serious furrow at his brow. He will do this out of the kindness of his heart and not because he has desperately wanted to stretch out the wings or test the saliva -- ] I will care for Batty Batkins.

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inkindled: (20)

[personal profile] inkindled 2021-03-16 12:25 am (UTC)(link)
[Matthias, intently comparing one piece of parchment to another piece of parchment (checking his spelling against a preexisting text, making sure he's put all the fiddly little commas where they ought to be and not peppered throughout, as is his usual way), looks around abruptly at the knock. The moment he clocks Athessa, he smiles; the moment he realizes what day it is and what she's saying, he drops both parchments and shoves
hurriedly away from his desk.

He closes the short distance between them and throws himself at her in a hug. She neededn't have said that's what she was after.]


I'll miss you.

[Obviously. But he has to say it, even though it makes his ears turn pink to be so straightforward.]
inkindled: (12)

*needent've

[personal profile] inkindled 2021-03-20 06:59 pm (UTC)(link)
[He laughs, and the sound is just a tiny bit strangled by the force of her embrace--but there's no way he'd protest, or try to get out of it. He likes this.]

'Course I will. Only hope you'll be able to read my handwriting. I'm better at it 'cause of all the practice I've had, but still. You're going to be able to send letters?

we're goode at thus

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altusimperius: (ooh)

[personal profile] altusimperius 2021-03-16 12:26 am (UTC)(link)
"Then we'd have to move all the pillows," Bene points out, his eyelids drooping as he makes a lazy grabby-hand for the hose.

"Besides, you'll be back sooner or later."
charmoffensive: (27)

[personal profile] charmoffensive 2021-05-08 05:20 am (UTC)(link)
"That does sound promising."

He greets her by first bending down to kiss her cheek, while also taking the glass from her hand as smoothly as if he were stealing it. Then, Loxley settles in the chair opposite. For his part, he's keeping himself fed and healthy, out here, though there's a dark seam just visible from the line of his beard from some hard knock, but that too is on the path to healing.

A little dishevelled, like he'd been lounging about or even napping, curls combed with hands dipped in water, but otherwise groomed. "There's one with a unicorn on it," he says, "but only of you want to get properly fucked up."
charmoffensive: (20)

[personal profile] charmoffensive 2021-05-26 11:20 am (UTC)(link)
"You might've caught me napping, yes," Loxley says. "But such is the life of an incorrigible hedonist."

That's a joke, judging by his tone. He wishes. That sounds fun.

But he did catch that, the lit'rally, and where it's marked. His fingers fan out from his grip on his cup as he asks, "You've a ferry waiting for you already?" before bringing his drink up to taste.
clawings: (Lost my momma)

docks; I know I said packing in discord but this made more sense to me

[personal profile] clawings 2021-03-15 10:40 pm (UTC)(link)
[ There's some godawful noise on the stairs and Erik opens his door to find Athessa dragging a heavy trunk down the hall; he shuts the door just long enough to double back into his room to find his shoes and then he's sprinting out. ]

Hey. Lemme help you with that?

[ He knows she's leaving but not for how long or why, and honestly? He's nervous about asking. Doesn't want to be too much in her business but also doesn't want to seem like he's disinterested in what's happening with her. ]
clawings: (Then I wouldn't finally wouldn't use my)

[personal profile] clawings 2021-03-17 03:56 am (UTC)(link)
[ She laughs and he smiles, patting her on the shoulder. ]

How far you goin' with it? I can prolly lift it for a while, if you're cool with that.

[ It'll take burning through some of that Black Panther not-quite-magic he's got going on since arriving here, but. Worth it, honestly. ]

Like a templar, or whatever.

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yes this is perfect

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cozen: (n103)

packing.

[personal profile] cozen 2021-03-15 11:48 pm (UTC)(link)
Bastien passes her door on his way to his rooms, arms laden with papers, and only waves—sort of, with his elbow, because his hands are full. Ten minutes later he's back, though, in rolled-up shirtsleeves and closer to empty-handed. In lieu of knocking, he leans against the outer door frame and sings: "Assehta the elf grew tired of feeling like she was on show, so she packed her bags, painted her face, and went to…"
cozen: (n002)

[personal profile] cozen 2021-03-16 01:04 am (UTC)(link)
"Oui."

That's the joke. But it's a very old joke, by now, so he doesn't collapse dramatically while clutching his chest and gasping that she's forgotten.

"Here, I made you something."

He comes inside, close enough to hold down a little collection of papers, sewn down a center fold to form a booklet. The front says: PLACES OF NO INTEREST. Which of course is a lie. The interior pages—only ten or so of them—each feature a place in the city, with partial little landmark-based maps drawn from memory and notes like (for a roof) you can hear the symphony from here or (for a cafe) ask for the special and wink twice.

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thereneverwas: (satisfied)

packing

[personal profile] thereneverwas 2021-03-16 05:07 am (UTC)(link)
"Aren't you gone yet?"

Barrow has come to lean uselessly in the doorway, one cat on his shoulder and another in his arms, a cigarette hanging out the side of his mouth.

"Maker, you bringing the whole island?"
thereneverwas: (Default)

[personal profile] thereneverwas 2021-03-16 07:04 pm (UTC)(link)
"Now that's service. You heard her," Barrow says to the cat on his shoulder, giving it a shrug and prompting the animal to hop down, where she promptly begins to investigate the scene and, predictably, hops into the trunk of her own accord.

"Not sure I'll fit with her in there," he muses. The other cat, being held like a baby in his other arm, watches sleepily and shows no inclination to move.
Edited 2021-03-16 19:04 (UTC)

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